


Bravery and Other Challenges

by Dandy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Non-Sexual, Poor Prompto Argentum, Wetting, fear wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandy/pseuds/Dandy
Summary: If a naga suddenly grabbed you in a dark cave, you'd probably react the same way.(An unanon from the kink meme.)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54
Collections: FFXV Kinkmeme





	Bravery and Other Challenges

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2018 for this prompt:
> 
> _Gen Chocobros - Prompto is so afraid that he wets his pants and he feels so ashamed that he can't even look at his friends in the eyes.  
>  The situation can be whatever you want but let it be as angst as possible(Prompto is REALLY terrified for a dangerous situation or for some trauma he recalled)  
> Lot of comfort at the end_
> 
> You can find the original [here](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=8198702#cmt8198702). I did a little clean-up work moving it over here but other than that it's the same.
> 
> There's some very very light Promptis in this fic but it can be read gen.

The cave is winding, dark, cold, and crawling with daemons, and if the Trial of Ramuh weren't so important, Noctis would be second-guessing their coming down here.

As it is, though, he presses ahead, followed by three pairs of loyal footsteps. He can't let all Lunafreya's hard work go to waste, so they trudge onward.

They've just squeezed through a tight passageway (much to Prompto's discomfort) when there's suddenly a loud sound coming from somewhere nearby.

“Guys, wait!” calls Prompto, straggling a bit behind the group. Noctis turns in time to see him looking around, squinting in the dark. “Wha... what was that sound?”

The sound comes again, like a demonic hiss, echoing off the walls of the cave. Noctis doesn't answer, taking a few steps further down the passageway as softly as he can, Gladio and Ignis following just as cautiously.

Prompto gets a bit too close to a cliff dropping off into a deeper part of the cave. His foot kicks a rock, sending it tumbling over the edge.

Then there's a slither, a scream, and Prompto is suddenly gone, whisked away into the dark.

“Prompto!” yells Noctis, swiveling on his heels and pushing past Ignis and Gladio back the way they came, staring down, eyes wide and frantic. He can't see anything, though he hears another panicked cry from his friend, somewhere off in the caves ahead.

“What happened?” Ignis is asking right behind him, followed by Gladio leaning over his shoulder and shouting, “Hey! You alright!?” into the inky black over the cliff.

No answer.

Gladio gives a frustrated growl, and Noctis feels a shiver run down his spine. A million scenarios flash through his head at once: Prompto, snatched and ripped apart by a daemon, or pulled down and dashed against the stone rocks below, or forced into a small crag where they won't be able to get him out, left to fade away-

“Over here!” Ignis suddenly shouts, yanking Noctis out of his stupor. He rushes toward the sound of the other man's voice, catching up as Ignis stands and points down another cliff.

Off across a large cavern, he can just see a light, bobbing away from them. He breathes a tentative sigh of relief, hoping it's not premature.

“Prompto! Are you okay!?” Gladio yells again, his words echoing off the walls of the cavern. For a moment, Noctis's heart clinches again, afraid that Prompto is wounded and can't answer, but then he yells, “No, I'm _not_ okay! This place is literally the worst!” with such an indignant tone that Noctis can't help but grin.

He's about to yell something in answer, but Prompto continues.

“And why did it have to be a snake!? It dropped me all the way over he-”

His words abruptly cut off in another scream, and Noctis watches in frozen horror as Prompto's flashlight is suddenly yanked, hard, further into the caves, Prompto yelling something he can't make out before the light disappears entirely.

“Prompto!” he yells, at the same time as Gladio, but there's no answer, and before Noctis really knows what he's doing, he's flinging his sword and warping across the cavern.

Hanging from a pillar high above the ground, his eyes frantically search for _any_ sign of Prompto. After a moment, he sees movement, a light start to grow, and for a second he lets himself believe that it's Prompto returning, safe from whatever just happened.

But then there's an horrible noise, and the light begins to shine with an unnatural bio-luminescence, and Noctis grits his teeth and growls low in his throat. Just daemons.

“Noct!” He looks back at Ignis's shout, catching a view of them from their flashlights. They're surrounded by the monsters. “There's too many!”

He's right; there's far too many swarming for Gladio and Ignis alone, even as formidable as they are. Still, Noctis hesitates for one second longer, debating, before warping back just in time to knock aside an imp before it can sink its claws into Gladio's back.

Prompto is strong, and resourceful. He'll just have to hold on a minute longer until the three of them can catch up.

_Hang in there, Prompto._

* * *

The sensation of being dragged along the ground, bouncing and banging off every rock and stray plant root and having his legs squeezed by some kind of scaly beast, easily ranks among the top ten worst experiences of Prompto's life, somewhere between the time he got sick and threw up in one of Noctis's family's cars and that day in middle school when he had to try to climb a rope in front of everyone in gym class.

The snake daemon that has him is determined not to let go – it keeps crying out in that horrifying hiss it has, moving along at a swift pace, uncaring that Prompto is getting bumped and bruised along the way. When he tries to wriggle free, it slams him to the side deliberately, and his head snaps against a rock so hard he sees stars.

He moves this experience up that list a few more notches.

After what feels like ages but is really only a few minutes, the beast finally stops, letting go of Prompto unceremoniously. He lies still for a moment, blinking through the black spots on the edges of his vision and willing the ringing in his ears to stop. He has to get up, he knows, has to keep moving or he'll definitely die here, but his whole body is one big ball of pain and frayed nerves.

The daemon hisses, and he dredges up enough of his strength to roll over, pushing himself onto his arms and knees. He realizes blood is dripping off his face onto the rock, and his stomach lurches painfully.

“My baby...”

“Huh?” Prompto gasps, jerking his head up; a bad idea, as his vision clouds over again. He holds a hand to his head, listening as the daemon, incredibly enough, speaks again.

“Where is... my baby...?”

“Y-your baby?” Prompto repeats, pushing himself shakily to his feet and trying not to sway. He still has his hand pressed to his head. “Uh... what are you talking about...?”

The daemon slithers closer, and Prompto finally gets a good look at it in his flashlight. He realizes it has an almost human face and sharp teeth; probably the creepiest thing he's ever seen, and he's seen a lot during their weeks on the road.

“Where is my baby?” it repeats, more insistent now. It's leaning close to Prompto, eyes staring at him, unblinking. Prompto shivers involuntarily, and takes a step back.

“I...” He glances around, but there's no one to help him, no one to tell him what to do. The others haven't caught up to him yet; he's on his own. So he says what he hopes - _prays_ \- will work.

“I, uh... saw it! Further back in the cave!”

He's hoping that the daemon will take the bait – rush off away from him, maybe running into the others to meet a swift end at their blades, or just leaving them all alone in its search to find whatever hideous creature its baby must be. But instead of leaving, the monster only leans closer. Prompto feels hot breath wash over his skin, heavy with the stench of something decaying. He's shaking now.

“You know where my baby is...” it says slowly, staring at him for a moment that goes on too long, and Prompto knows he's in trouble even before it suddenly breaks the silence.

“YOU TOOK MY _BABY_!”

The screech is so loud Prompto flinches, hands flying to his ears. His eyes are still closed when the monster's tail slams into him again, sending him tumbling head over heels into the darkness. He feels a crunch under his body, and when he opens his eyes, he only sees the odd, pale lights that seem to glint off the daemon itself. His flashlight is gone.

Prompto feels terror wrap itself around his heart stronger than almost any he's ever felt. It chokes off his blood, his face running pale, clogs in his throat and leaving only a strangled whimper to come out. He turns to run, but slams abruptly into a wall, further disorienting him.

“Guys!?” he calls out, frantic, but no one answers, and he's almost overwhelmed by the urge to sob.

He's in a cave, in the dark, being attacked by a dangerous daemon and worst of all, he's all alone.

* * *

Noctis growls and slams his blade into the solid rock face, causing a shower of sparks to rain down on himself and his retainers.

“Beating the wall isn't going to get you anywhere,” says Ignis, voice annoyingly calm in this situation, and Noctis has to clench his fist and physically force back the urge to scream at him.

“This is the third dead end. Where the hell did it take him?” he says instead, doing what he thinks is a fair job of keeping his tone reasonable, given the circumstances.

“Calm down,” says Gladio anyway, already moving back the way they came. “Prompto is a big boy, he'll be okay till we get there.”

Noctis tries to tell himself that's right, but he can't get the image of Prompto's flashlight disappearing into the darkness out of his head; the sound of Prompto's terrified cries still ring in his ears.

“There's another fork we didn't take here,” Ignis is saying, moving briskly, and Noctis warps to catch up. “Come then, let's hurry.”

They get to the fork and hurry down the direction they didn't go before, Gladio pausing to score the rock with his sword just in case they have to double back. Noctis knows it's a good idea, but he hates the way the ringing of sword on stone fills the cave, making it impossible to hear if someone were up ahead, calling out to them.

They jog for what feels like entirely too long a time, and a suggestion to go back is hanging on Ignis's lips, when suddenly Noctis's straining ears hear it: a demonic hissing, just like they heard before Prompto was suddenly dragged down into the darkness.

He breaks into a sprint, ignoring Gladio's grunted, “Hey,” as he shoves past. The images from before are filling his head again: Prompto, lying broken and bloody on the ground, reaching out for help that didn't come, torn apart by the unforgiving jaws of a horrible monster.

He wanted Prompto to come on this journey with them; if he dies, it will be Noctis's fault.

_Please be okay. We're coming._

* * *

They aren't coming.

At least, that's what Prompto's treacherous thoughts tell him, as he scrambles away from the daemon, fingers scrabbling against the wall for any nook or cranny he could wedge himself into to get away from snapping jaws and snarling teeth. Why would they ever come for him? Noctis had to get to the runestone, they didn't need to detour to find their clumsy, useless tag-along. They were probably happy to be rid of him.

Prompto tries to push those thoughts aside, lock them back up in the secret part of his heart where he keeps them, usually safely tucked away until they rise up to attack him when he needs them the least. Like now, as he crams himself into a tiny hole in the rock, just in time to miss the furious snap of the creature's maw, trying to ignore the claustrophobia that comes over him in waves.

His face is only centimeters from those teeth. He can see just how sharp they are. If they grabbed him, he would be dead in seconds.

 _Pick up your damn gun, idiot,_ he chastises himself, but his arms are shaking so hard he can barely move. The daemon is still snapping at his hiding spot, the weird lights that flicker from nowhere off its scales casting an eerie glow on him, making him feel dangerously exposed. The walls around him feel like they're closing in more every second, and the dirt that keeps raining down on him doesn't help the feeling. It's too much to take in.

All at once, Prompto feels it – the rush of hot wetness in his pants, spreading quickly from his crotch and across his legs. For a moment, a dizzying wave of horror washes over him as he thinks the thing must have bit him, and this is it, he's bleeding to death, but then he glances down and realizes what it actually is.

_Holy shit. I'm pissing myself._

Everything moves in slow motion after that.

He stares at the dark patch growing over the print on his pants. He looks up, eyes and nose nearly snapped off by powerful, wretched jaws. Lights, bright lights from somewhere past the daemon shine in his face.

Someone screams his name.

He pulls up his gun and shoots.

* * *

The tunnel the three are running down widens out to a larger opening not long after he hears the hissing, and Noctis throws his blade forward and warps in, ignoring Gladio's shout not to go ahead. He can see it now, in the glow of his flashlight: a huge daemon, a snake as Prompto had said, with a hideous head: a warped, disgusting imitation of a human's. It's snapping and charging at an opening in the rock, and inside, when it rears back, Noctis finally sees Prompto.

And he looks like he's bleeding to death.

There's a huge gash on his forehead that has bathed his face in blood, but more than that, there's more starting to darken his pants. It's coming out in a gush, and Noctis's heartbeat thunders as he realizes that at that pace, Prompto will bleed to death in minutes. It's just too much, too fast... in fact, far too fast...

Almost not like blood at all.

Really more like...

...Oh.

In any other context, Noctis might have been stunned by seeing his best friend wet himself, but in this context, all Noctis feels is a heady rush of relief. That's all it is. There's still time.

“Prompto!” he yells, bringing up his sword to warp strike the snake.

He's expecting Prompto to look his direction.

He's not expecting his gun to come up, or for it to fire.

But damn it if Prompto didn't just shoot the daemon right in its open mouth.

“Nice,” says Gladio from behind him, and Noctis can't help but grin, hefting his sword again.

“You guys showed up at the perfect time,” he replies, watching as the daemon howls and writhes. “Prompto gave us an opening.”

And then he's warping ahead, slamming his sword straight into the monster's side. It screeches, trying to raise up and snap at Noctis, but Gladio is over him before it can sink its teeth in, blocking it with a shield before slamming his huge great sword onto its neck. It falls back, and Ignis is suddenly leaping past them, his daggers slamming down into the creature's ugly face.

It only takes a few hits more and then it's over.

Noctis watches as the daemon's body melts away into nothing, before turning to the wall, eyes searching for Prompto in the darkness. He soon spots him, crawling slowly out of the hole. He's shivering, and Noctis notices his flashlight is off, or perhaps broken.

He staggers a bit once his feet are on the ground, and Noctis warps to his side, grabbing his shoulder before he tumbles over. Now that he's this close, he can feel just how badly Prompto is trembling, as fear and adrenaline work their way out of his system. Noctis can imagine how stressful the last several minutes probably were for him.

“Hey, buddy,” he says softly, putting his other hand on Prompto's opposite arm to better hold him. “You're okay. We've got you.”

But Prompto keeps his eyes trained on the ground, biting his lip fiercely, and Noctis feels his heart flip.

Prompto won't even look at him.

* * *

On the list of most horrible experiences in Prompto's life, he's decided this is now number one.

It wasn't bad enough that he was dragged across a cave floor by a snake who can't keep up with its own damn kid. It wasn't bad enough that he had to scramble and hide for his life. No, he had to piss himself, and his best friend, the king's shield, and the king's advisor all had to see it.

All three stronger, braver, tougher than he would ever be. They would never wet their pants like a baby at a little trouble. They would never be so scared they couldn't do something as simple as control their bodily functions.

Prompto likes to think he's part of the team, equal and wanted on this journey to help Noctis. But when something like this happens, it becomes harder and harder to convince himself that's true.

“-buddy,” Noctis is saying, and his voice swims to Prompto through leagues of water. It takes him a moment to fully focus. “-we've got you.”

Prompto wants to look up, but he can't, afraid to see what he'll find on Noctis's face. Anger? Disappointment? Pity? All of them are bad options, he just doesn't know which is the worst.

“Here.” Ignis's voice now. He's holding something out. “A potion for your forehead.”

“Oh.” He blinks once, slow, then takes it, hesitating before breaking it over his head like he's not entirely sure that's what he's supposed to be doing. “Thanks, Iggy,” he says, still not looking up, as the magic knits his forehead back together in a rush of relief. Now if only he could use a potion to hide the evidence of his accident from everyone.

“Hm. You seem a bit dazed.” Ignis rubs his chin, before reaching out as though to cup Prompto's. “Here, let me see if your pupils-”

“I'm fine,” Prompto says quickly, looking up but still not quite in Ignis's face. He tries to force a smile, though he knows it's not full, and probably not very convincing. “I just got... thrown around a little.”

“Tch. I'll say.” Gladio now, all his bulk hovering over Prompto. “That was one disappearing act you pulled back there.”

“Oh, you know me,” Prompto says, trying for a light tone, letting a fake chuckle roll off his tongue. “Always up for getting a... head start.”

“And a good head dashing, apparently,” says Ignis dryly, still squinting at Prompto's forehead in the glow from his flashlight. “At least that healed up. We'll tend to your other injuries once we're out of here.”

Prompto nods, looking down at his feet. “Yeah, okay.”

Noctis is still holding on to him, and his expression is one Prompto can't read, though his refusal to look Noctis full in the face surely has something to do with that. After a moment, he says softly, “I'd say let's leave now, but... I _have_ to get to the runestone.”

Prompto swallows, then nods again, forcing another smile. “I know, dude. Don't worry about me.”

Noctis examines him a little more, then lets go, almost, if Prompto let himself believe that, reluctantly.

“Just... stick close to me, alright?”

“...Yeah. Sure.”

* * *

As it turns out, the runestone isn't far from where they ended up, and the rest of their trek is _easy_ compared to before. Prompto finds himself feeling almost pissed off about it – without daemons attacking, there's absolutely nothing to distract himself from his earlier humiliation. Instead, he has to trudge along, with the disgusting sensation of his wet pants clinging to his thighs. It feels awful. If they weren't in a cave full of the smell of lightning and dead animals, it would probably smell awful, too.

At this point, his only consolation is that no one has laughed at him yet. It seems like the sort of thing that would amuse Gladio, at the very least. Or maybe he's more angry than amused, taking this as a sign that Prompto is just a liability. How could someone who pissed all over themselves be able to protect the king of Lucis?

He's so lost in his thoughts that he trips, over his own feet or a rock, he's not sure. Noctis catches him easily, saying, “Whoa, careful,” with a light tone that is edged with concern, and suddenly having his head bitten off by the snake daemon feels more appealing than it had ten minutes ago.

He didn't want to make Noctis worry.

“I'm fine,” he says, and his voice comes out so strangled that he wishes he'd kept quiet. Noctis's brow furrows, but he doesn't press.

“I believe,” Ignis says after another few minutes, “that the daemon that attacked Prompto is called a naga.”

Prompto isn't sure whose benefit this information is for. Regardless, Gladio answers, “Cool,” in the way that a strong, unafraid warrior would. _Cool, I got to take down a naga,_ Gladio could say. All Prompto could say was that the naga dragged him around and made him wet his pants like a little kid.

He nearly forgets to take out his camera when Noctis reaches the runestone.

It's pretty sweet, he has to admit, watching his friend get bathed in some ancient magic light, eyes glowing like a badass, but then the thought that this might be his last picture before they leave the weakling behind sets his hands to shaking all over again, and he fears the picture will be blurry.

(It isn't. At least he can get _that_ much right.)

After forging a pact with a god, one should really say something noble or poetic. But instead, Noctis turns back to look at him, and he must notice Prompto's renewed quivering because all he says is, “Let's get out of here.”

Then they're surrounded briefly by light, and, with a quick twist in his stomach from the warp, they're back outside.

The sun rose while they were down in the caves, and Prompto blinks a few times as his eyes adjust to the light. Once they do, he can't help but glance down – and he feels another twist in his stomach, this one from shame. It looks so much worse now that they're out in the light; the stain reaches down to his knees in some places, big, impossible to miss streaks. It's so obvious what it's from, what he did, and Prompto feels his face grow hot.

“Shit, Prompto,” Noctis suddenly says, and his head shoots up, expecting to see Noctis gaping at his pants. An apology is already forming on his lips, desperate, but then he realizes his friend's eyes are not on his pants, but his arms. “You're banged up worse than I thought,” he continues, reaching out a hand to brush down a scrape on Prompto's forearm, who winces involuntarily. Noctis winces with him, immediately dropping his hand again, and Prompto finds he misses the contact immensely.

“Why don't we make for a motel?” suggests Ignis, also looking at Prompto's arms. “I think a shower is in order for everyone, and we can replenish our supply of curatives.”

At the mention of showers, Prompto flinches again. His arms wrap around himself and he nods while the other two answer more enthusiastically.

“Call the birds, Noct,” orders Gladio, and Noctis takes out his chocobo whistle and blows.

* * *

Normally, having a chocobo around will lift Prompto out of any funk. Noctis is counting on it, really, when the birds show up, cooing in their distinctive way. The cave clearly shook Prompto, but he's sure it's nothing that won't clear up once he sees his favorite animal.

But Prompto looks just as gloomy when the chocobo is standing in front of him as he did before, and Noctis's hopes sink. This is worse than he thought.

He hops up on his chocobo, hearing grunts from both Ignis and Gladio as they follow. But when he looks over at Prompto, he's just standing there, biting his lip and staring at the saddle, not moving to hoist himself into it.

“Prom...?” Noctis asks, voice heavy with worry. What if he has even worse injuries than they realized, and he's just not saying anything? “What's up?”

He doesn't answer at first – it almost seems like he's zoned out. Noctis is about to hop back off and force Prompto to let him douse him in potions, when finally he blurts out, “Don't you think it's gross?”

It takes Noctis a beat to understand what he means, and once he does, he suddenly feels like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Of course. _Of course_ that's what Prompto would be worried about now.

He'd more or less forgotten it entirely, as relieved as he'd been that Prompto had only wet himself and wasn't dying of blood loss. But Prompto hadn't forgotten; how could he, walking around in wet pants like that?

“Nah, man,” he says, tone light and casual. Maybe if he acts like it's no big deal (which it really isn't), Prompto will stop making it into one. “They won't mind.”

“Yeah, but I...” He trails off, clearly not wanting to voice exactly what he did. His jaw works for a moment before he finally finishes with, “I don't want to get the saddle dirty...”

“Too late for that,” Gladio chimes in. “We've sat on these things covered in blood, bug guts, demon goo, and plenty of dirt.” He gestures at his own clothes, caked in grime and mud from the cave they'd just traversed. “Piss's probably one of the cleanest things that's been on here.”

“It _is_ mostly water,” chimes in Ignis. “Though if it really concerns you that much, I can wipe the saddle down once we arrive at the outpost.”

Prompto looks between the three of them like he's not entirely sure he believes that, like he's expecting one of them to start making fun of him any moment. When none of them do, his eyes finally rest on Noctis.

“You... really think it's not gross?”

Noctis shrugs. “Yeah. It's really not a big deal.”

Prompto stares at him. Then he laughs, once, nervously.

Then he puts his hands to his face and sobs, and Noctis throws himself off the chocobo.

* * *

He's an idiot.

Of course they weren't going to get rid of him over something like this. They're acting like it's not a big deal; it _isn't_ a big deal, and Prompto's worked himself up over nothing.

He's a _huge_ idiot.

Before he can berate himself further, Noctis is suddenly there, hugging him, going, “Hey, hey, it's alright,” in a soothing voice that makes Prompto's shakes slow down a few hundred miles per hour.

“I was so scared,” he admits, and tells himself that his voice isn't cracking. “I really thought I was dead that time.”

“I know. I was scared, too.” Noctis pulls back a little, only just enough to look in his eyes. “When we couldn't find you at first... I was panicking.”

“Heh.” Prompto sniffs, reaching between himself and Noctis to scrub at his face with his wrist. “Didn't mean to worry you, dude. Sorry.”

“Don't apologize. It wasn't your fault.”

Prompto bites back the urge to apologize again. “Still, pretty lame of me, right? Gettin' that scared of a dumb snake...”

“Well, I was actually impressed.”

Prompto looks up at Gladio, half expecting that to be the start of a joke, the punchline coming at his expense, but Gladio looks entirely serious. “You were that scared, but you pulled through and put a bullet right into that thing's mouth. It was some good shooting.”

Prompto feels tears bud in his eyes again, though for entirely different reasons this time. There's warmth flooding his chest, and he almost doesn't recognize it as pride, the same as he felt when one of his photos won a school prize or whenever Noctis introduced him as his friend.

It's hard to believe, standing there in wet pants, tear tracks drying on his face, but maybe he can actually let himself feel good about the job he did in there.

“Well, shucks,” he says, grinning against the wetness in his eyes. “Thanks, big guy.” He means it to come off jokingly, but he can't hide the genuine gratitude in his voice, and Gladio grins at him.

“Gladio is right, you know,” Ignis chimes in now. “Being able to fight even through our fear is the true mark of a Crownsguard. Everyone has something they're afraid of; it's how you handle it that counts.”

“Heh.” His laugh is more genuine this time, raising an eyebrow at Ignis. “Even you two?”

“Well. Maybe Ignis,” says Gladio, grinning at the other man. Ignis rolls his eyes almost imperceptibly.

Noctis pulls back further, lips quirking up in a conspiratorial grin. “I'll tell you some stories, when we get to the motel.”

Prompto grins back. “Can't wait.” Gladio makes an annoyed noise from his chocobo.

Noctis finally moves so they're an arm's length apart, though doesn't drop his hands from Prompto's shoulders just yet. “Then, are you okay? At least to get to the outpost?”

Prompto takes stock of himself. He still feels shaky, but it's not from so much fear now; his pants are still disgustingly wet and his legs are starting to itch, but the only way to fix that is to leave for the motel.

He looks into Noctis's eyes. “Yeah. I'm good.”

“Okay.” He drops his hands, turning back toward his chocobo. “Then let's get going.”

* * *

The ride to the motel takes about two hours. Prompto almost wishes it was still raining, so that they would all get soaked through and the stain on his pants would be no longer visible, but of course he has no such luck. And riding through the trees means limited sunlight, and he isn't fully dry by the time they reach the outpost.

Just as it's in sight, Ignis suddenly hangs back, pulling his chocobo alongside Prompto's. He holds out a hand, motioning for a halt.

Prompto stops, looking at him nervously. Maybe Ignis's kindness earlier was only for show, and this is where he gets the talking to about embarrassing Noctis, about not being able to adequately assist him.

But instead of saying anything, Ignis is shrugging out of his jacket and holding it out for Prompto to take. He does, staring down at the fabric in his hands, not sure why he has it.

“Go ahead and get off,” says Ignis, tone firm but kind. He's already swinging his leg over his chocobo, and Prompto hurries to follow. “We'll tie that around your waist. It should hide the stain well enough until we can get keys to a room.”

Prompto stares at him in stunned silence for a moment. “Uh, won't that get your jacket dirty, though?”

“It's already going to need cleaning, and anyway, you're mostly dry.” Prompto thinks that's being generous, but doesn't feel like arguing. “Now, let's see...”

He takes the jacket back, nudging Prompto to hold up his arms so he can tie it around his waist, bunching the fabric in the front so it hides most of the wet streaks. It's not perfect, but it's enough that it's no longer obvious what's happened.

“There we are.” Ignis pulls back to examine his handiwork, nodding in satisfaction to himself. “Hardly noticeable now.”

“Thanks,” Prompto stammers, looking down at the jacket in quiet amazement, and almost misses Ignis walking on toward where the others are waiting, leading his chocobo by the reigns. He hurries to catch up.

“You'll want to take a shower, I'm sure,” Ignis continues, not waiting for an answer. “Just leave your clothes outside the bathroom and I'll take care of them.”

“You don't have to-”

“I was already planning on doing laundry,” Ignis cuts him off. “It's really not an imposition.”

Prompto shakes his head. “You're really too much sometimes, Iggy. You know?”

“It's my job to take care of the details.” He looks back over his shoulder, and actually smiles a bit. “And your job to take care of yourself. I expect to see those cuts and bruises healed by the time I return.”

“Sure.” He smiles back, and it might be worn and thin, but it's sincere. “Thanks.”

Before Ignis can say anything else (most likely to tell him not to thank him), Noctis yells, “Are you slowpokes coming or what?”

Prompto picks up his pace to go meet him.

* * *

“Aaaaah...” Prompto lets out an exaggerated sigh, collapsing back onto the bed. “Feels so good to be clean again. I can actually see my skin's natural color now.”

“Feels so good to lay on soft beds,” Noctis sighs in agreement. He's already laid out across the top of the sheets in his boxers, ignoring Ignis's order not to before he had a shower, looking like he could fall asleep at any moment. “No more sleeping bags. No more bugs.”

“I'll drink to that,” says Prompto, grabbing the water bottle that had been forced on him at some point off the nightstand and taking a big swig.

When he lowers the bottle, Noctis is looking at him over the arm his head is cradled in. Prompto can't help but feel a little self-conscious. “What?”

“Are you really okay?” Noctis asks, eyes roving up and down. He'd used potions on the worst of the bruises and scrapes, and now only trivial injuries are left behind to heal on their own. But somehow Prompto knows he doesn't mean physically.

“...Yeah, man. I'm good.” He musters up a smile, and finds that it's not nearly as difficult to do as it was just a few hours ago. “But you know what I'm thinking?”

“What?”

“No more caves.”

Noctis laughs. “I'll see what I can do.”

They drift into a comfortable, sleepy silence. Prompto enjoys the feeling of his damp hair on soft pillows, the sound of Noctis's breathing next to him, slowly evening out.

He's starting to doze himself when he suddenly feels a weight settle across his chest. Blinking his eyes open in surprise, he sees that Noctis has thrown an arm over him, tugging just a bit on his side.

After a moment, he wiggles closer to Noctis, letting himself be pulled in, until his head is tucked up under Noctis's chin. Feeling warm, feeling safe, sleep claims him easily.

* * *

The next morning his camera has ten pictures of the two of them cuddled up together, and Prompto has something entirely new to be embarrassed about.


End file.
